Return to Oz
by L.ithJayhawk
Summary: SEQUEL TO THE BALLAD OF CURT AND MAXWELL. Curt, quietly living under housearrest, laments the death of both Brian and his memory in Maxwell. A newcomer, however, warns Curt that his days with demons might not be over...
1. Chapter One

**RETURN TO OZ**

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Probably will make a lot more sense if you read "The Ballad of Curt and Maxwell" first, seeing as this is the much-requested sequel. Also, this is a working title- I'm totally up to suggestions, but also be prepared for it to change.

CHAPTER ONE

Weird shit starts happening when you're cooped up in a house alone. Hell, weird shit starts happening when you were Brian Slade's lover. I thought I gotten used to it. Not much weirder stuff could happen, as far as I thought. This was my time of relaxation, being stuck in my apartment. They thought I needed some "chill time" after I supposedly freaked out. I agreed with them, about the chill time. Not about freaking out, I think my actions were logical enough.

Mostly, I think I got off easy. That is, with the whole "killing Maxwell" thing. Although quotes aren't needed; I killed Maxwell and I admitted to that. Hell, the whole thing's on security tapes; I never needed to lie. But even so, I got stuck with house arrest and a fine. That's it. I expected to be shut away for murder, but they hadn't viewed Maxwell that way. What I got punished for was "destruction of property."

Property. Stolen property even, if they insist on looking at a living being, near human, that way. Maxwell would have belong to Brian… which I guess meant he would have belonged to me, after Brian died. Or Mandy. But really Maxwell just belonged to himself.

So here I was, living comfortably in my not-so-little apartment without a thing to worry about. Nobody to see me, guards outside my door. Nothing on my schedule. Food was delivered to my door, my clothes were taken downstairs to be washed and returned clean and folded, and all recording had been delayed on account of I wasn't allowed to undertake anything that might make me money. Nothing on my mind. Brian and Maxwell were both at rest, people had happily carried out my goal of destroying Jack Fairy's reputation for me. Animal rights sort of people. Maxwell hadn't been an animal, but Jack Fairy defamed was all good enough for me.

Maybe that had been the cause of it all. Not enough on my mind? With an empty slate, who's to say what might come to mind. Then again, I always was a magnet for the weird. Legends of wolves and all that. Bullshit, but hard to shake off. The heroin and all (not that I'd been able to have any recently, nor did I really have that much desire for it anymore, but there's all that talk of being permanently fucked up and all)… that probably didn't help each either.

Or maybe I just missed them too much. Brian, Maxwell. Killing the Demon had taken that last shred of Brian from me. And I missed him in himself, the way he'd propped me up after Brian had died. Sometimes I wished myself dead with them, at least then it wouldn't be so lonely. At least then I could see them again, and maybe Brian and Maxwell would be one, and that would be good enough. One, two... I just wanted them back sometimes. I never really _worried_ about it, I just _wished_ for it. Strongly.

But it happened one night that while I was laying in my bed and sleeping with my mind blank like that… things started to come to me. What I saw was mostly haze, foggy cloudy-type stuff. But there was something there. A figure with wings. I thought it was Maxwell, and I ran towards him. But as I got closer, I saw that the wings weren't Maxwell's dragon-like skin, but soft feather, faintly glittering, and Maxwell's spines and tail were gone. I didn't have time to see more of this reincarnation of the Demon, though. Everything faded away like they tend to do. Try and get a grip on the image, it only goes faster. Will yourself back, and you only wake up, you know? You can never really see all you want to.

I guess you might call it a dream, this vision of a new Maxwell, perhaps only some paradox my mind made up because it never was quite right, but in our world, the world of glitter and seduction and demons and the impossible… dreams sometimes don't stay in that land of sleep.


	2. Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

I'll tell you one thing about the dream: It only made me miss them more. All this time alone, and then all I get to see is a mere glimpse, a silhouette, and a distorted and unrealistic one at that. It wasn't fair- if I was going to have to dream about them, why couldn't I at least see them how they were?

I didn't like to think of Brian dead, and this new image of him with the feathered wings I had stuck in my mind only reinforced that idea. And Maxwell- Maxwell certainly wasn't any angel. I'm not saying I didn't want dreams like this, didn't want to think of them, I'm just saying I was disappointed in the lack of reality. If it were more real it would have been more comforting. Anyway, it had only been a dream, and I shouldn't have thought over it so much, but it was instinct, to think of them.

It wasn't very long before I was distracted and forgot all about it, though. I was laying around in bed thinking it over when one of the guards came in with an envelope. I figured it was nothing good, he'd come in too early in the morning for a simple unimportant mail delivery. Usually everything like that just got left on the kitchen table anyway.

"What?" I grumbled, struggling out of the covers, still half asleep.

The guard was one of the younger guys, I couldn't remember his name, but he looked uncomfortable so I guessed he'd probably been picked for this unpleasant task against his will.

"There's a um- a letter for you, Mr. Wild," he said, coming closer and I took the envelope ad he backed off pretty quickly, pausing in the door, and I must have been staring at him because he felt the need to say more.

"Um… I'm sorry, Mr. Wild," and he got the hell out back to his post at the front door.

I shrugged and shook my head and turned the letter over. The envelope had already been split open, because mail they deemed "suspicious" got screened before it ever reached me. This one was pretty suspicious, since it wasn't even marked with who it was from at all. Pulling the letter out, I was a bit shaken to find it was my mother's handwriting, for the first time in years. My brother had died. Hit by a car.

At first I was just hit with this immense feeling of elation- finally, he was gone. Finally, all that would be really and totally over. Done. That was the relief. Pity came next, sorry came later. Sadness was last, although I have to say there was a bit of shame with it. After all, despite all that shit he got me into, he had still been my brother. I was kind of guilty that I didn't really miss him.

My mom wanted me to come to the burial. I felt sort of bad for her, stuck with pop and all forever, no sons around. She hadn't even thought I'd open the letter, that's why she hadn't put a return address on the envelope. Afraid I'd see it and throw it away.

I made up my mind to go, more for her than Aiden. My brother, that is. I knew I wasn't going to be as broken up over him as I had been about Brian and Maxwell. Hell, to me, Maxwell had been more human than Aiden. But I would go. It'd hopefully make me feel better about the huge "fuck you" I'd given the family all those years ago when I left.

Then I could go on living my life and not worry about it anymore. Seems my life had fallen into that sort of pattern- eliminate all the things to worry about, have less and less to care for. I always thought I'd be the first to go, either die or just go nuts, but it seems like it was getting down to just Curt here.

* * *

SHOUTOUTS:  
**_curt kenobi _**- hehe thanks. The title- wow. It's only semi-good because that's already the third version. Hehe. And I'm glad I'm not the only one about Jack. I never have liked him… I think I said that in BoCaM more than once. lol 


	3. Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

It was surprisingly little trouble for me to go. I had to have a guard tag along, yeah, but I was expecting to have to jump through hoops to get to go out of the house, let alone out of the country. I guess it was only polite, though. You can't really keep a guy from funerals.

It was a long-ass drive back to Michigan (that is, after the long-ass flight back to America). The guard they assigned to me was that young guy. His name was Trey, I picked up from listening in to the others talking to him. He was an alright guy, not too talkative and kind've nervous about all the responsibility they'd dumped on him by sending him off with me, but I couldn't find any reason I'd ever pick a fight with the guy.

And I didn't make it any harder for him than it had to be, did what I was told and all that, but he gave me pretty much leeway. Not like some of the other guys, who I'm sure would have been breathing down my neck if I so much as went off to take a piss.

I didn't hang around with my family before the event; I got a hotel. I didn't sit with them, either, or really say anything to them either. I came, I was respectful, that was my duty. I stood in the back, quiet, watching them go on about him, my sister and his friends and a ton of others. How he was a star athlete, so clever, and a great buddy and all that type of thing. Lies mostly, except for the athlete part. I experienced my fair share of his athleticism.

It was a fairly inexpensive funeral, cheap really, which made me feel guilty again. I'd gotten away and they were still stuck in that same old ratty trailer park. But the thing did drag on forever, speeches and prayers and singing.

Toward the end, his friends and some of my distant and none-too-understanding relatives had caught wind of me being there and were turning heads in their chairs to leer at me, snarl, make disgusted faces. Or in the case of some of Aiden's friends, make lecherous eyes at me.

Nobody knew it, but Aiden wasn't alone in his crimes against me. Aiden let his friends in on the fun, too, if they had wanted it. Wanted me. I tried not to look at them, stare at the weedy ground, or the rows of chair backs or my brother's plain casket.

Eventually my eyes wandered out to the surrounding gravestones, row upon row of white and gray, all in various states of worn down and untidy and decaying. There was one right by where Aiden was being buried that was absolutely massive: a huge graying mossy angel with a sword, must have been 12 feet high. Atop the base of the memorial sat a man in only tight, torn jeans.

I thought he must have been a gravedigger until I took a closer look. It was Brian's face, staring right at me, and I started to move over towards him, my blood rushing in my ears. But seeing that I had noticed him, he stood and smiled at me and it wasn't Brian's smile, so I held back, hesitant.

Taking a closer look, I saw that it wasn't Brian, but the new version I'd seen in my dream. He was golden-tan, his eyes an impossibly pale blue, his straight hair, longer than Brian had usually kept his, blonde. Behind him he shook out wings that must have spanned 18 feet, the feathers a spectacular array of golds and whites.

He smiled again at my hesitation, and turned away. I watched as he walked slowly and calmly, with all the grace fitting to a Slade, to my brother's coffin, passing right behind the preacher, and placed a red rose atop the wood before fading away as he had in the dream.

As soon as the rose touched the top of Aiden's casket, it withered and died.

Though all eyes were trained in that direction, nobody else blinked an eye, seemed to notice this stranger who had wandered through the proceedings and bestowed my brother with such an ominous gift.


	4. Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

It was on my mind the whole rest of the damn trip. Brian's face lingered in my head, only with those pale eyes and messy longish hair. That smile that wasn't Brian's at all. A completely normal body save for the wings- no tail, no claws, no fangs or anything like that. Just those gorgeous golden wings. I didn't know what the fuck to make of it.

Was it Brian? He was human enough, with his face and body and grace just like Bri's- but his expression was nothing like Brian's.

Was it Maxwell? He had wings, and he was unreal enough, but Maxwell had never been able to fade away like that. Or walk in front of the public eye and not be noticed.

…or had anyone noticed? Was it possible maybe that they had seen and accepted it as a miracle, or didn't want to mention what they'd seen because people would call them crazy? This is what my thoughts had turned to on the plane, and I finally got up the nerve to ask Trey, the officer.

After thinking real hard over how to phrase it without making it sound like _I'd_ seen anything, or anyone, wrong, I turned to him and asked, "Did anything about that whole burial thing kinda strike you as… weird?"

He shrugged. "No. Not particularly. Seemed like all the other I've been to."

"Oh."

And I shut up. Said no more about it, last thing I need was these guys poking around for something new to experiment on.

And that was all that really happened for a while. Significant things, anyway. The next real event would be months away. Occasionally I would catch a glimpse of him, this winged Brian, in a dream. Once something that could have been his shadow went past my window, but that could have been a bird, too. Or a cloud, some trick of light. Nothing to raise a fuss about, at that point at least.

I had no reason to think anything more would happen. I lived my life in my confinement, watched TV, wrote a song or two out of sheer boredom, read, just trying to pass the time for the rest of my house arrest.

And eventually it ended. The guards finally packed up and left, and I was alone again. Back to the "what to do with myself" dilemma. I mean, really, if you think about it, there's not a whole fuckin' lot for one guy to do, alone. I went to some movie previews and all, bars and clubs, cruised around the streets. That's when I started to see him again.

At first it was still just glimpses: the first time I saw him sitting atop a taxi in the middle of traffic, watching me. Next he'd pass by me as I turned the corner. I'd see him step onto and off of buses. I caught him in the crowd at a concert. All the sort of things where you'd see him one moment and he'd be gone the next, replaced by some other face in the crowd. Parades, marches, those sort of things where it would leave me wondering if I'd actually seen him or not because of all the faces.

Then he started _being_ people. Like, he would take their place and suddenly a shoe shiner would just fuckin' up and have shed his shirt and sprouted wings. Nobody else would even notice that the policeman or the hot dog vendor or the sales clerk or construction worker or cab driver or bum on the street was suddenly performing his duties half-naked with a pair of wide, feathery wings coming out from his shoulders.

It drove me fuckin' crazy. He was always right there, yet no one ever saw him but me. And I knew he saw me; occasionally he would look up and smile at me, and I never could get close enough to try and talk. Anytime I got close, he'd be gone.

* * *

SHOUTOUTS:  
**_Alexandria Queen of Dreams_** - ha, don't worry, I'm still a wee bit confused, too. But love? Yes yes yes I love the new character! Hehe… and naturally I've got a chapter I'm dying to do… but you'll just have to wait and see  
**_tea rose dreams_** - thankies! Hopefully this one is living up to BoCaM standards… I'm kind've afraid I won't be able to match the original… 


	5. Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

By this time I was back to recording again. Overall a shitty album, but I was getting back in the swing of things. This is where I finally came face-to-face with him.

I had been in a hurry to leave that night; it had been a late session and nobody was in a good mood when it ended. I was already about halfway down the street when I realized I had left my guitar in the sound booth. Which wouldn't have been a big deal at all if it hadn't been the one the song I was still working out at home sounded best on.

Cursing, I made my way back, parking across about three and a half parking spaces, storming up to the door and unlocking it. Nobody was there anymore, even the janitors had been finished by the time the session got out, and now all the lights were off, too.

Except for one.

Back in the back of the building, the studio we'd been using still had the lights on. I stalked back there wanting to just grab the fuckin' guitar and go- and there he was.

I stood in the door, speechless, all the pissed off in my system just draining away. He smiled comfortably from a chair in the middle of the room and held out my guitar for me.

"Hello Curt."

I drifted over slowly and took the guitar, careful.

"Hey."

And then I set the instrument to the side, dragged up a chair, trying to do it all without taking eyes off of him. I was afraid to look away, afraid he'd disappear on me again. But when I sat down he was still there, waiting, almost, for me to get settled.

After the longest pause I finally got out, "…Brian?"

He shook his head. "I'm not Brian."

I paused, accepting this defeat, voicing my next hope.

"Maxwell?"

He frowned slightly, eyes going a bit stormy, more forceful this time when he answered, "I am not Maxwell Demon."

Neither. None of the above.

"So who are you?"

"I have no given name."

I wasn't patient enough for this game. At all.

"Then what the fuck'm I supposed to call you!"

He just smiles patiently, unaffected by my frustration.

"You already know what you call me, Curt."

And it was true. I had already been calling him (in secret even to myself sometimes; I didn't really want him to have a name when I wasn't sure what he was) Angel, for what I believed him to be. Brian's Angel, technically, but who wants to say all that to themselves when they're thinking about it?

"Angel?"

He nods.

"Is that what you are?"

I have to explain here that his saying so would confirm one of my greatest fears: that I had became involved in some weird metaphysical, religious Heaven versus Hell type thing. The last thing I needed was for the Bible shit to all be true and real. 'cause that meant I was going to have a real fuckin' grand ol' time when I finally got assassinated or killed in a car wreck or committed suicide or whatever. It'd be a lot of bad news for me: I'm sure I had a list of sins that'd stretch along the Great Wall of China. But I suppose there was always that easy way out:turn yourselfover to Jesus or whatever and then you automatically get forgiven and all that which to me is a load of shit. It's too easy. Too good to be true. But…

"Something similar. Not in the sense I'm sure you're thinking, but I would be on that "side" of what they call good and evil. But it's more complex than that."

I didn't get it, at all, but I'd accept at least that he wasn't come down from God or something.

"So… what're you doing following me, then?"

"Waiting for your demon. I've been sent to kill it."


	6. Chapter Six

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm back, after a long break. I know you've all been sad… but unfortunately school and college applications consumed all my desire to be creative. I'm sure anyone who's been through the process will understand. But I'm going to pour my effort back into making this as great as BoCaM, k? ;)

* * *

CHAPTER SIX

"_My_ demon? What the hell are you talking about?! I don't have a demon- there's only Maxwell," I hurriedly corrected myself, "Was only Maxwell."

His patient smile made me feel so naive.

"Alright, Curt, if you say so."

And uneasy.

"What do you mean, 'my' demon?"

"Did you really think Maxwell was the only one of his kind, Curt?" Angel answered, and for all his 'holiness' or whatever it was, I had to say he was a pretty harsh scoffer. But I had enough bite of my own.

"Yeah, I did actually. Not exactly a whole lott've his kind walking the streets around here. Now are you gonna tell me what the hell's going on or not?"

He sighed, and it was almost annoying how like Brian he sounded… almost.

"They can't use Brian anymore, so they're trying to go through you."

That wasn't exactly what I'd wanted to hear. Not only did it sound insane, but looked to me like I was getting caught up in the great fun of that whole metaphysical conflict shit I thought I'd escaped five minutes earlier. Plus I'd learned that the most insane sounding things could be true.

"What the fuck?! 'They?' Who are 'they??' And what do 'they' want me for?"

"Let's go have a drink," he suggested abruptly, standing up.

I sighed.

"Yeah? Where?"

For the first time since I'd seen him he looked uncomfortable, finally like he wasn't in control of absolutely everything. He shifted his weight from foot to foot slightly before answering, and in the silence I could hear the feathers of his wings rustle.

"Well. It'd be best… since this will take a while to explain, you see… if we just went- home."

I narrowed my eyes at him.  
"We? It's not your home."

"Sorry," he said softly. "I forgot- to your home. But I must insist."

"And you intend to stay, don't you?"

He looked at me helplessly and I grit my teeth, growling out, "Fine."

"I won't be any trouble…" he started apologetically but I cut him off with an annoyed hand gesture.

I got up and grabbed my guitar roughly and the keys.

"No, no trouble, you're just screwing around with my life."

Maybe I said it a little too harshly because he stayed quiet as he went to follow me, folding his wings a bit more to avoid banging them against equipment on the way out. And quiet as I went out to the car, pissed off and lighting a smoke. He got in and glanced over at me having my smoke, and I noticed him just barely wrinkle his nose.

"You gotta problem with me smoking in the car?!" I snapped at him, and he shook his head quickly, avoiding my eye. Brian always had had a problem with smoking in the car- where nobody could see. Brian had smoked not because he enjoyed it, but because it was fashionable.

It seemed like I had beaten Angel into submission, though, from the way he huddled down into the seat, somewhat awkwardly because of his wings, looking away from me and out the window. I wasn't just being mean for the hell of it, though. I was pissed, sick of my life being on long freak show- one that was out of my control, that is. I wouldn't have minded maybe if it was just a regular freak show.

It bothered me though, seeing him all meek like that. It brought me back to seeing Brian like that, after a verbal thrashing I'd given him in some meaningless fight, ages ago. That's what screwed me over- it was hard to separate feelings toward him with what I'd felt for Brian, them being nearly identical in appearance. But I bit my cheek and held back from any apologies, driving in somewhat heated silence back to the apartment, trying not to let that push me into falling for him like I'd done with Maxwell. I couldn't go through with love again.

After more silence on the way up to the apartment (which was probably a good thing, seeing as everyone in the lobby didn't appear to notice Angel at all and I would have looked like even more of a nutcase talking to myself in there), I finally broke the ice again, while breaking into the booze.

"Whatt'll you have?"

"It doesn't matter- whatever you're having," he replies hastily, still in that anxious tone.

I shook my head at him somewhat for his apparent weakness for criticism and poured God-knows-what into two glasses and handed one over.

"Now tell me everything."

* * *

SHOUTOUTS:  
**_Brownie/Melody_**- I love you and our brother. Enough said.  
**_Alexandria Queen of Dreams_** - lol why's that bad? tsk tsk don't go hitting my characters- especially the original ones. they need extra love.  
**_Totally Raven_**- lol yeah, it was a pleasure to knock off Curt's bro. I could have maybe made his mom a little nicer to Curt though, looking back on that chapter... hmm...  
**_Missloaf_**- Glad it's living up to BoCaM standards... I was a bit worried since these chapters before were coming off short. but thanks ;)  
**_Valo_**- haha that's the funny thing- I don't really do plots, I just kinda GO. but I'm glad you like it.  
**_Secret Pleasures_**- a new reviewer? welcome! -hugs-  
**_an-angel-in-hell_**- yay another newbie! (and of course I don't mean that in a demeaning way at all) I'm so glad this story's gotten so much attention already!


	7. Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

"I'll start at the beginning," he said, taking a drink before setting the glass aside for the rest of his speech.

"The world has a balance. Of many things, but mainly between positive and negative- good and evil is what most people call it, although those are too simple of terms. Rarely is anything ever _purely_ good or _purely_ evil. They tend to be a trade-off of sorts. Someone is always hurt in the doing of good; someone always benefits when evil occurs. Keeping the two relatively equal, however, is essential to the continuance of life as you know it. There must be both, and they must be equal.

"However, life cannot maintain this balance on its own. Left to its own devices, it would spiral off toward one extreme or the other, destroying itself in the process. That's where we come in.

"Originally, the solution was to have what you call the "demons" simply make sure there wasn't too much positive by countering with negative whenever necessary. Thus, they are an older race than us "angels." To motivate them to generate this negativity, they were placed in a world parallel to yours, but much more desolate. Their world lacks sunlight and color. Food is difficult to find, so they constantly battle one another. Some resort to cannibalism. Their leaders are unrealistically harsh. Sound is a rarity- a demon who can accomplish sound is very powerful. Their world makes them bad. Some, it drives insane. So they commit evil upon your world to unleash their frustration."

"So what about you, then?" I questioned, then cut him off before he could answer. "Lemme guess- they were a lot more pissed than you thought and started screwing things up real bad, so you had to come save the world, right?"

He nodded, "To make a long story short."

"So really you're not so much all valiant and shit as you are covering for screwing up in the first place."

He shrugs slightly, "I did say there was no such thing as pure good and evil."

I laughed a bit, somewhat critically, "Coulda figured that one out from you askin' to go back to my place for a drink."

Again he shrugs, nonchalant. Criticism didn't seem to bother him much, only the fact that I didn't seem to be totally on board with his plan.

"We all have our vices."

"Soo… why didn't they just not make that demon-place so shitty in the first place?"

"I… I don't know…" he answered, and seemed to have genuinely never considered that possibility. "It was just always like that."

"Wow." I snorted, refilling my glass. "So what's your place like, then? Some huge party all the time?"

"No," he answered, somewhat defensively. "It's nice, though. A lot better than here, but… it's hard to explain."

"Okay."

I didn't really care if I got more information. I had the basic gist of that shit so I was done with all the flowery description.

"But why I came here," he started, trying to rouse my interest again.

I waved him on and sauntered off to grab a beer from the fridge to top off the vodka. However, he wouldn't continue until I'd returned and settled down.

"Why I came here is to get your help to stop your demon."

"You already said that. Skip to the part about why I should care."

He looked a bit irritated but did as I asked.

"Maxwell Demon," he started, and I didn't at all appreciate the tone he put into the name. "Has created a huge amount of attention for you. Possibly even greater than Brian's influence. You have become a prime target, a perfect vehicle for creating mass chaos. If your demon is allowed to find you, infest you- the impact would be catastrophic."

I feigned disinterest in the overall scheme, picking at details instead.

"So… what's my demon's name, then?"

Suddenly he had lunged forward and clapped a hand sharply over my mouth.

"Don't!"

"Don't what?!" I asked, muffled and annoyed.

"Don't even think about naming him!" he warned, taking his hand away now. "You do that, he becomes even more deadly."

"Yeah, okay, but then why did Maxwell-"

He cuts me off, suddenly angry.

"Don't think because of the brief time you were hiding him here that you _know_ Maxwell Demon. If you knew what he has done, what he is capable of, you will know why he has earned a name. And you will never want to lay eyes on him again."

Now that was bullshit I wasn't going to take. I stood up and shoved him away from me, storming back toward the bedrooms. But he was persistent, following me, calling after me as I tried to escape.

"Are you going to help me or not?"

"Looks like I don't have a choice, do I?"

He catches up with me, quiets down a bit.

"Of course you have a choice. But if I fail… he will kill you, Curt. In order to get his way."

"Yeah, so Angel, you know what that means in other words? I don't have a choice," I grumbled. "I don't know what you need me for, anyway. Not like I'll be much help to you."

"I'll help you," he promised. "I'll train you the best I can."

"Fine. Whatever," I stayed silent for a moment. "You tell me one thing, though."

"What is it?"

"If you claim Maxwell's so bad, then what have you done that's so great you get to talk shit on him?"

Watching him squirm uncomfortably was answer enough.

"Well, I… I've done… minor things. Important births, extinction prevention, cures… but this is my first _major_ event."

"Not exactly an awe-inspiring resume, kid."

"No, but I was-"

"I'm going to bed."

And I shut the door. I could tell this was going to be an absolutely fan-fucking-tastic adventure already.

* * *

SHOUTOUTS:  
**_lady potter7447_** - yay another new BoCaM fan! that's awesome, not just for me but for the VG fandom as well, 'cause I keep finding new pple coming out!  
**_Alexandria Queen of Dreams_** - lol Angel's gonna be a bit've a bitch until Curt gets used to him. hopefully the next chapter will help change that perspective a bit ;)  
**_Curt Kenobi_** - hey hey hey! I love being back! it's soooo much better than actually paying attention in AP Stats... and AP Chem... and German... whoops.  
_**wiseupjanetweiss** _- yay someone does like Angel at least! -hugs- awesome!


	8. Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Curt…"

His voice was by my ear, just above a whisper and I turned to catch his face, turned to stare directly into his perfect gorgeous intense eyes, so wide and bright, sparkling with mischief in those rare moments he wasn't distracted. I was suddenly aware I had his hand in mine and he had a hand somewhere else as well and my heart was racing on as if it would explode.

"Brian-" I gasped, sucking in the taste of his name o my lips and soon sucking in the taste of him as well, for he had silenced me with a kiss.

"Shhh… quiet…" He cocked his head toward a doorway at one end of the balcony spread out above the mansion's foyer. A mischievous smile slowly spread across his lips. "…Mandy."

He turned away with that sly smile and dashed off, leading me by the hand to another part of the sprawling house, surprisingly quick and quiet in platform boots.

Following him through the kitchens, the short, styled blondeness of his hair struck me and I remembered where we'd been earlier that day: a horrible breakfast meeting with Jerry Devine at a stuffy place where I was hungover, underdressed, and confused as hell, sitting there listening to that guy jabber on while the world spun around me. A quick glance at a mirror in passing confirmed it was true: me, in leather and more leather, hair bedraggled, eyeliner smudged, expression hazy and floating. We had already come a long way since then.

He led me on through dining rooms, servant's cupboards, sumptuous bedrooms, getting louder and wilder as he grew further and further away from his wife. Him dragging me along became follow the leader. Hide and go seek. Tag. A blur of faces and rooms I would later come to know. Tumbling across beds, jumping in and out of empty bathtubs, ducking behind curtains and through doors, anticipation rising all the while.

Then stairs. Stairs, stairs, stairs, upwards in a tight, narrow spiral. Each step lust rising. Each crowded landing things getting hotter, heavier. A whisper, a touch, a caress, a moan.

We exploded into the fading sunlight at the top of the tower and I all but pinned Brian to the wall, unable to let him escape anymore. But he pushed back, his body up against mine, keeping me in the center of the room. He was just as hard, just as needy; I could feel his pressure against what was already straining against the inside of my leather pants.

But he held my face softly in his hands and kissed me gently and said, "Wait. I want you to see it first."

"See what?" I panted, impatient.

"The world."

And he lifted my chin so I was facing the glass ceiling, basking in the deep blues and purples and streaks of fading pink in the twilight, tracing the just-born stars. All the while he was snuggled up against my back with arms wrapped around my waist, fingertips just inside my pants, ever so subtlety reminding me that he had not forgotten the reason he had led me here.

His hands moved lower as the light got lower, teasing me into a frenzy, to where I could feel an anticipatory sweat break out across my back. I turned to him, tried to catch his lips again, but stubbornly he twisted away and pointed upward. I craned my neck just in time to catch a streak of light blaze across the sky, then he was on me.

For a moment, I was aware of nothing but his lips on mine, then I was on the ground and he was breathing against my neck.

"Make a wish…"

"Wish you'd stop teasing me…"

I growled softly back, running a hand over his ass, pulling him against me and I could feel his cock twitch in anticipation. He tangled hands in my hair and pulled me in for a bruising kiss, both of us struggling for dominance and losing clothes in the process. Gasping for air, I ran hands over him, and he twisted against me. I bit his lower lip, and he reached down to grab my-!!!!

A sudden crash made me bolt upright in bed, panting and covered in sweat. I fumbled for the light, tangled in what suddenly seemed like way too many sheets. But the lamp wasn't there. I reached across for the one on the opposite side and flicked it on.

Angel was there, standing at the foot of my bed, breathing heavily and with this huge jewel-edged sword in hand. The missing lamp was shattered all over the floor.

"What the hell'd you take out the fuckin' lamp for?!"

He glares at me.

"What did you think you were doing, Curt?!"

"What am I doing?? You're the one standing over my bed with a big-ass sword!!"

"You were _this_ close to being infested!!"

"What? Infested?"

"Yeah! I heard noise in here so I came in to investigate and the demon's tongue is practically down your throat!" he exclaims. "So I swung at him but he got away out the window."

He point with his sword and I saw the window really was wide open.

"So you mean that dream I was having…?" I gagged.

"What dream?"

"Ugh… never mind. You don't wanna know."

"Oh…" he nodded, then, "Oh! Oh. Oh, I see. Oh, no… god. Imean, I was wondering why you were-"

"I wasn't!"

"Oh… okay then."

Total end of conversation.


End file.
